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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815455">Never regret thy fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat'>beautifulcheat (Katalyst)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the fearless flight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Mythological AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:33:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyst/pseuds/beautifulcheat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As his father prepares to escape Crete, Alex plans an escape of his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the fearless flight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Never regret thy fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by this poem by a-chilleus: https://a-chilleus.tumblr.com/post/154779362089</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun on his skin was like a caress, as Alex stood on the edge of the tower, breathing in the crisp salt air from the sea.  The winds were favorable that day – winds that would bear them all the way to their final destination.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“That’s the way we’ll go.”  His father was telling him, making final adjustments to the harness that would keep the wings on his arms, tightening it across his back, almost tight enough to bruise, but not quite.  Apparently he was in a good mood, today.  “To Sicily.” </p><p> </p><p>“I see.”  He acknowledged. Flexing his hands, marveling at the way the feathers flexed with them.  His father was, undeniably brilliant.  His father was many things.  Kind was not one of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Stay right with me.  Do not fly too low.  The damp will ruin the feathers.” <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Yes, sir.”  Alex said quietly, scanning the horizon and trying not to think of warm, honey-gold eyes, sparkling with laughter. </p><p> </p><p>His father stepped away, sliding on his own set of wings.  “And do not fly too high.  The wax will melt.” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”  Golden curls, tousled and wild rose to his mind, unbidden, and he shook them away too. Now was not the time.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s time.”  His father said, nudging him to the edge of the parapet. </p><p> </p><p>Alex took a breath, catching it, and letting it out, slowly as he looked down, his stomach sinking, caught with sudden terror.  It must have shown on his face, because his father made a sound of disgust.  “Do not embarrass yourself with weakness,” he growled, and shoved Alex, hard between his shoulder blades.</p><p> </p><p>He heard a scream, or more than one – he had no idea if it came from him or the people beneath him, in the market he would sneak off to whenever he got a chance.  It was all Alex could do to remember himself enough to spread his arms out, catch the wind as it sliced into him, to slow his descent.  Remembering to beat his wings only just at the right moment, before he was dashed against the stone courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>He caught sight of a girl, holding a basket of pomegranates askew, the fruits falling, one breaking open.  He was just close enough to know that that well could have been his head.  Could still be him if he were distracted.  <em>A pair of kiss-bruised lips, stained with pomegranate juice, whispering in his ear. </em></p><p> </p><p>Alex worked harder, beat his wings furiously to gain altitude as the astonished noises of the crowds rang in his ears, and his heart jackhammered in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>All the noises slipped away as they flew, soon off the island, over the ocean.  There was nothing in his head but the sound of the wind rushing and the beat of his wings, and Alex had never breathed easier.  From here, he felt like he could count the waves to his destination, mark their passing until they were free.</p><p> </p><p>It should have been hard work.  His father had made sure he was prepared for hard work.  Endless training to endure, to ensure they could both continue flying even as their arms burned and ached from the beating needed to keep them aloft. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t hard at all.  The wind seemed to hold him up with almost no work at all, as if Aeolus himself knew of their plan, and approved.  Perhaps he did, Alex thought… and the thought brought him comfort.  Peace. </p><p> </p><p>The sun on his back was a kiss, a promise of things to come.</p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes.  The wind pushed up against his belly and his wings, urging him higher, higher.  It was a call that he didn’t want to resist.  But it wasn’t time to heed it yet.</p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes and went back to counting the waves, smiling at the dolphins, playing with their shadows as they passed.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the endless waves gave way to an island, an outcropping of rocks turning the sea from deep blue to crisp white.</p><p> </p><p><em>There</em>, he thought to himself, spread his wings to their fullest extent, and let the warm currents of the air bear him up.</p><p> </p><p>He heard his father yelling – he couldn’t make out the words, but his brain supplied them, anyway.  The words his father would snarl into his face if he understood Alex’s true intentions.  <em>The line that separates god from man is absolute.  The punishment for mortals who attempt to cross it is severe.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The air was thinning.  He could no longer hear his father’s voice or wingbeats, and though he refused to look down at him, he knew his father was probably beating his wings furiously to try and catch him.  Alex knew he never would.</p><p> </p><p>Higher still – it was colder here, somehow, closer to the sun, and Alex had a sudden, knife-twist of panic.  The plan wouldn’t work.  The wax wouldn’t soften and melt as it should. </p><p> </p><p>He looked down at his father – no more than a speck, from here.  He let another moment of uncertainty slip by, but Alex couldn’t afford more than that, before he reached to the harness, tugged it loose… and he was falling, almost free-falling from a dizzying height.  He could feel feathers being torn from his wings from the sheer force of it all, the air rapidly warming, wetting, the roar of it giving way to the roar of the ocean.</p><p> </p><p>The water hit his skin, cold and sharp, and he almost drowned in that moment, the air knocked from his lungs.  But the ocean was soft, and forgiving, and he shrugged off the last remains of the harness, kicked to a nearby rock, and clung onto it for dear life.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m dead. </em>He thought, with relief.  His father would know that he should be dead.  Even into water, a fall from a height like that should crush his bones, rend his organs.  It was only, quite literally, by the grace of the gods that he was not. </p><p> </p><p>He could hear the beats of wings, and he flattened himself to the rock, made himself small, one last time.  Let the waves roll by, counted them.  No more than a half dozen before the sound of the wings faded.  The winds would not permit him to linger, they would bear him on to Sicily, onto more machinations and petty dramas, free from the burden of a son who was always a shame to him.</p><p> </p><p>Alex relaxed back into the water, with a sigh.  Stretching out in it before turning to swim to the shore, dragging himself up on it.  Every muscle had turned to jelly as the exhaustion and relief hit him, his skin stinging still from the impact with the water.  Even so, he laid out in the white sand, on his back, and let the sun kiss his skin, warm him. </p><p> </p><p>“You came.”  The voice was breathless, excited.</p><p> </p><p>Alex opened his eyes, catching his breath and pushing himself up to his feet, pains forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>“You asked me to.”  Alex said softly.  Suddenly feeling almost shy.  Michael was radiant, like living gold, as only a sun god could be.  Alex felt small and insignificant for a moment – and then Michael smiled, like Alex was his whole world, and he forgot to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Your dad won’t find us here.”  Michael murmured, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in Alex’s neck. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re free.”  Alex agreed, carding his fingers through Michael’s hair, soaking in the warmth of his skin.  “We’re finally free.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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